2001-03-31
Dear Diary:

I keep telling myself it could have been worse, we could have gotten the foot they predicted, but somehow it doesn't help.  Sigh.����A lesser woman would have committed ritual suicide with an icicle, but I have taken the overnight dump of yet another six inches of freakin' snow in my stride.

����No.

����Really.

����I have.

����Oh, who am I kidding?

����The truth is that I have gone into denial so deep that the light of reality is but a faint glimmer in the distance.

����Yes, today I planted burgundy sunflower seeds, some cactus zinnia and some canary bird vine as if there is a possibility that one day I will live in a place without snow, as if one day I will again know summer.

I planted those seeds like half an hour ago, dude.  How long is this going to take, huh?����Where oh where are the guys with the big butterfly nets, the restraint jackets and the padded rooms when you need them, huh?

����Want to know what's even more annoying?

����I swear it's been 30 minutes already and not a darn thing has sprouted yet.

����I Want My Instant Gratification and I Want It Now.

����.:cough:.

����Oh and speaking of instant gratification (segues so smoove they're like butter, eh) three weeks into The Big Gym Adventure I am developing my first muscles! Biceps! I AM GETTING BICEPS.

Do you think he's making fun of me?  Huh?����For the last few days, like any mature woman just a few months shy of her 50th birthday, I have been forcing the spousal unit to admire my beautiful new biceps, too.

����Constantly.

����"Feel my muscles," has become the new mantra around here. There has been a little eye rolling about this.

����So this morning I came down to breakfast and this is the little tableau which was created for my benefit.

����I think someone has entirely too much time on his hands, eh.

����I wonder if I can think of some extra weekend chores ...

--Marn
P.S.--About a year ago I first mentioned my fascination with the SETI@home program. Today I uploaded my 600th unit AND STILL NO WORD FROM ANY ALIENS. Sheesh.

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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